


up here folks heaven's not that far

by magnvseffect



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex can't ski for shit, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Students being matchmakers, Wintertime Shenanigans, literally EVERYONE is gonna show up at some point lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnvseffect/pseuds/magnvseffect
Summary: In which John Laurens runs out of babysitters for his three-year-old daughter, the high schoolers he teaches get into their heads that he and their English teacher would be a cute couple, and this ski trip might turn out to be much more interesting than he thought it would be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here goes nothing! this is my first fic in a long time, so be indulgent. it's mostly a chill thing while i plan other, more developed aus, so i don't have a regular updating schedule yet — but if you guys enjoy it, i'll probably come up with a more solid plan! in the meantime, enjoy panicking single dad john.

“Wait— what do you mean, you can’t watch Frances? We’re literally leaving first thing tomorrow!”

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” said Martha. “Dad...Dad just threw a tantrum on the phone, I’ve got to go and check on him, you know that! I’m at the security checkpoints right now. I’d bring her with me, but since I’m pretty sure you don’t want that…”

John slumped onto his couch, dragging his free hand down his face, the other pressing his phone closer to his ear. She did have a point — having his daughter and his father in the same room was literally the last thing he wanted. Not that Henry Laurens would want much to do with his gay son and said son’s little girl, whose mother happened to be a first-generation immigrant. As if the universe wanted to make sure all bridges were burned to cinders. “Okay. You go, you...take care of Dad. What do I do, Martha? I can’t just bail out on Washington and the kids now.”

“Dunno, you’re the big brother,” she chirped through the phone, and if they were sitting face to face, John imagined she would lean over and ruffle his hair. “Don’t you have friends that can take care of her?”

“For two whole weeks? Nah. Laf and Herc are leaving with me, and there’s no one else I’d trust Frances with, I’d have to make arrangements.” John glanced at the clock hanging over the TV. 10:30. Amazing. “This is the worst,” he muttered. 

“What happened to your usual babysitter?”

“I called her already, her roommate picked up, she’s got the flu.” God, the more he thought about this, the more he resented himself for not having a plan C, D and so on. “I don’t have time to look up new ones, or do background checks!” 

“I’m sorry, Jack, I really am,” Martha said, “but I’m literally about to board my flight, I’ll call you later, promise—” 

John stared at his screen, the words  _ call ended  _ flashing in the semi-darkness of his living room. So much for the unbreakable bonds between family members.

If he was in more of a joking mood, he would have said he should be used to it. 

It wasn’t really Martha’s fault, he shouldn’t resent her for it, but it didn’t take anything away from the fact his life had taken yet another stressful turn. 

So he did what he usually went for in this kind of situation. John dialed Lafayette’s number, one he knew by heart by now, and waited for his friend to pick up.  _ Please be awake. Please be an irresponsible person who’s still watching whatever’s in your Netflix queue right now, despite the fact that we’re supposed to be up at ass o’clock tomorrow morning.  _

When a sleepy, lazy “Allô?” interrupted the regular, nerve-wracking  _ beep _ that meant he was kept waiting, John thought he might audibly sigh with relief. “Gil, holy shit, thank you. I’ve got a problem.”

“My problem is that I had to get out of bed for this, but go on.” The annoyed tone of his voice would go away, John knew: whatever he might say about being disturbed, he’d never seen Lafayette leave anyone in need, especially when it came to Frances. Hell, the man might as well be her eccentric, overly enthusiastic uncle. John was pretty sure she would be fluent in French before starting primary school. 

He saw no point in stalling. “Martha’s flying home. Family emergency. I don’t have anyone to take care of Frances for next week.” John waited for a sharp intake of breath, any hint of surprise, but Lafayette didn’t seem half as distressed as he thought he’d be. “I’ve got to find someone real fast, Gil,” he pressed.

“You don’t have to,” came Lafayette’s answer. 

John had to rub at his ears, make sure he’d heard his friend right. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You don’t have to,” Lafayette repeated patiently. “Just bring her on the trip with us.” 

“How am I supposed to do that? We’ve for jobs to do, I can’t just show up with my kid and go like,  _ Hey, I’ll just have this toddler with us and handle you guys at the same time _ , it’ll go fine!” John was dimly aware of his voice getting louder and louder by the second, which he’d probably apologize for later. He glanced towards the corridor, making sure Frances was still asleep.

“You’re panicking, John. Just do our thing — l count, you breathe, alright?” John clutched the phone and nodded wordlessly ; Lafayette must have picked up on it, because he started counting in soft French. “Un, deux, trois, quatre…” 

Obediently, as though he was a small child himself, John forced himself to inhale and exhale, until his heartbeat slowed and his hands weren’t shaking anymore. “I’m...really sorry,” he whispered after a while. “I’m just afraid to leave her alone, you know? She’s so little.”

“It’s fine,” Lafayette said. John could picture him now, leaning forward his elbows on his knees, keeping his voice a soothing flow. “Like I said, you can definitely bring her. I’ll talk to Washington, he likes you.”

“More like he likes  _ you _ .” They’d known each other for years now, and John was pretty sure Lafayette had become George and Martha Washington’s adopted son somewhere along the way. Each Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, he even came back with at least half a dozen of Tupperwares overflowing with Mrs Washington’s finest dishes, which he enthusiastically shared with John and Herc.

“Sure.” Lafayette sounded like he was laughing. “My point is, he’ll definitely understand. They probably won’t be able to keep her for you, since Patsy’s coming home tomorrow, but if you’re the one paying for Frances’ stuff, it’s no problem. As for the kids, Herc and I will keep the worst off you. What are friends for?” 

“You’re the best,” John said, and he meant it. Who cared if his relationship with his father was shit? He had friends like Gilbert du Motier and Hercules Mulligan at his back ; he’d pull through.

“ _ C’est moi. _ Now, I’ll call George and live-text you what he says, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Gil, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Buy any baby-sized piece of cloth with turtles on it you come across.”

“Shut up.” But even as he hung up, John could feel himself smiling. “It’s gonna be fine,” he firmly told no one in particular. Now all he had left to do was that Lafayette was right and that Headmaster Washington would indeed be okay with one of his teachers bringing his three-year-old on a school trip, even if it was an emergency. He busied himself checking his own suitcase, which had been laying around for almost two days now, a checklist scotched to its front, then decided he might as well be optimistic and prepare Frances’.

John’s phone buzzed with his text alert as he was almost waist-deep inside the mess of his closet, looking for the Barbie suitcase Herc and he had bought in a whim a few weeks before, when Lafayette had insisted they all come celebrate Thanksgiving with the Washingtons in their Virginian holiday home of Mount Vernon. He quickly dug himself out, accidentally kicking into a few shoeboxes, and practically lunged at the phone.

**america’s favorite frenchman [22:43]:** im speaking with him rn!!!!!  
**you [22:43]:** wtf how are you typing rn   
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:43]:** a true magician never reveals their tricks   
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:46]:** ok he sounds a bit concerned but!! im sure i can convince him   
**you [22:46]:** counting on you   
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:50]:** he says that as long as u provide for frances it’s chill  
**you [22:50]:** ok ok no problem i expected to do that anyway  
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:51]:** thats what hes saying but tbh im pretty sure hes gonna throw in some funds  
**you [22:51]:** u literally saved my life   
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:51]:** when do i not xoxo   
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:51]:** now go to sleep or u will die   
**you [22:52]:** can’t, baby suitcase isnt ready   
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:52]:** o shit u right  
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:52]:** good luck   
**america’s favorite frenchman [22:53]:** gnight   
**you [22:53]:** thanks (kissy face emoji) (heart emoji)

He supposed the actual ski supplies he needed for Frances could be bought or rented once they got there — not that she was old enough to actually ski. There were probably facilities for small children there, anyway.

John imagined that if his friends were there, they’d tell him to stop fretting. It wasn’t like he had a better choice at the moment, and if he had to stay with Frances all day, so be it. He hesitated for a moment before packing - well, wrapping up - the little foldaway bed he owned, just in case the hotel couldn’t provide that. He vaguely remembered something about free lodging for children under twelve, but God, he couldn’t be bothered to check right now.   
It was past midnight when John finally zipped the suitcase shut, heavily collapsing besides it. He’d made an effort not to pack everything he could find, emptying the case about halfway through to only keep whatever clothes he believed were needed, as well as Frances’ favorite toys and storybooks. He scribbled the rest onto the back of his hand:

  * __toothbrushes__


  * _snacks_


  * _martha the turtle_



Of course Frances wouldn’t leave without her stuffed turtle, John thought affectionately, but he couldn’t well pick it from her arms while she was still sleeping. He grimaced at the prospect of being to school at seven to go over the last details one more time. She definitely had to keep the turtle; John wouldn’t handle another morning tantrum, not today.

Worst case scenario, he’d drive back to New York in the middle of the trip. 

With the somewhat unpleasant sensation that he was winging this way more than he should, John flopped onto his bed, checked his alarm one last time and promptly passed out. 

**the og martha (sparkle emoji) (100 emoji) [01:26]:** yo im home  
**the og martha (sparkle emoji) (100 emoji) [01:26]:** things dont look good but i’ll spare u   
**the og martha (sparkle emoji) (100 emoji) [01:27]:** hope u worked things out!! keep me updated   
**the og martha (sparkle emoji) (100 emoji) [01:28]:** kisses to baby fran tell her her fav auntie misses her already  
**the og martha (sparkle emoji) (100 emoji) [01:28]:** dont forget my namesake!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i had inspiration and some time on my hands, here is chapter two! thank you for your positive response on chapter one, i really appreciate it. can't promise i'll always update this fast, since i'm still basically winging it, but have this in the meantime. also, i lied in the notes last time — this didn't go as far as i meant to go plot-wise, but it /is/ longer. so, enjoy!

  
His alarm clock started beeping at five thirty, an incessant, nagging sound that had John tossing and turning on the bed, attempting to muffle the noise by pressing his pillow over his ears and finally swatting at the clock with it. The alarm fell to the floor, immediately going silent. “Screw this,” John muttered under his breath, avoiding the F-bomb out of habit. Having a baby had changed tons of things in his everyday life, his tendency to swear easily first of all.

  
He kicked off his blankets and peered over the edge of her bed. The clock’s screen had gone dark, and didn’t turn back on even as he pressed the power button again and again. John moaned and fell back onto his pillows, allowing himself a minute of inactivity before dragging himself up again. He pulled on the stack of clothes he’d prepared the day before as artificial light filtered in through the shutters, then made his way towards the kitchen.

  
Thank God for instant coffee — he didn’t even like the stuff that much, but running on approximately five hours of sleep, he was definitely going to need the extra energy. For good measure, John shoved two more cans of Monster straight from the fridge into his backpack, knowing he’d crash as soon as his responsibilities would allow him to.

  
One shower and hastily eaten breakfast later - he’d shoveled food into his mouth at random more than anything -, John tiptoed into Frances’ room and knelt next to her bed, gently prodding at her sleeping figure and threading his fingers through her hair until she started stirring, mumbling under her breath in a half-awake state. “Hey, baby girl, _querida_ ,” John whispered, rubbing small circles into her back. “Don’t hate me, okay? I know it’s early and you’re still tired, but we’re going on holidays. There’s gonna be actual snow instead of sludge, isn’t that exciting?” He was certain she didn’t process a third of what he was saying right now, but it was mostly the talking that mattered, having some kind of background noise to her awakening. After a few minutes of this, she looked up, wide brown eyes blinking at him. John smiled at his little girl. “Hey, baby. You okay there?”

  
For a moment, he almost fooled himself into thinking things would go smoothly, until Frances started mewling, her bawling soon turning into full-on sobbing. “Shh, Fran, sweetie, don’t cry,” John breathed, gently pulling her out of bed. Screw the neighbours ; with any luck, by the time they swept down to complain about the noise, the Laurens family would be gone.

  
She kept crying as he wrestled her into her clothes the best he could. Her tears only receded when they walked into the kitchen together, the smell of toasted bread reaching her nose. “That’s right, I’ve got toasts and Nutella for you,” John told Frances, plopping her down into her high chair. She glared at him for a moment, as though she knew how many flash decisions he’d made last night, but obediently chewed on every little piece of fruit John fed her, making small gurgling sounds. As his daughter ate breakfast, John kept talking, hoping it’d keep him awake long enough for all the caffeine he’d basically inhaled to kick in. “Auntie Martha can’t watch you after all, so you’re going on holidays with me and uncle Laf and uncle Herc. It’s gonna be great, you’ll see, the kids will love you.” Or at least, he hoped they would. John Laurens considered himself a generally liked teacher, but there was no telling what kind of stunt high schoolers would pull.

  
_6:40_ , the clock over the counter chimed. John silently swore, snatching his keys from the bowl he kept them in (something he’d let Frances go wild on with Posca markers, which had resulted in some multi-coloured monstrosity he’d kept all the same) and shoving them into the pocket of his coat. “Alright, time to go,” he muttered, more to himself than to the little girl, still watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.

  
To sum it up: he was sleep deprived, his toddler might go into full crying again any time, and he had to carry two suitcases, a foldaway bed and a baby down five floors, since the elevator was still broken.

  
_Well_ , he told himself, _at least I’m not late yet._

  
John ended up strapping Frances into a baby sling and dividing everything into two trips. By the end of it, he was wheezing and missing his high school years, when he still played baseball on the school team and could have run up and down the stairs a few more times without feeling too out of breath.

  
_Worst thing’s over. Probably._

  
He saw Frances falling back asleep in the backseat on the drive to school, nursery rhymes playing on the radio. By the time John pulled up in Yorktown High’s parking lot, his phone flashed _7:05_. Not half bad. He managed to unbuckle Frances without waking her up, heaving her into his arms before heading towards the front door and the teachers’ lounge.  
To his relief, he wasn’t the last one there. Herc stood by the window, Principal Washington sat at one of the many tables, nursing his _#1 WASHINGDAD_ mug of coffee, but Lafayette was the first one to notice him, detaching himself from his conversation with Thomas Jefferson to bounce towards John and smack a kiss onto each of his cheeks, careful not to wake Frances. “John, good morning! How did you sleep?”

  
“Badly,” John grunted. “And I won’t ask you, because you look disgustingly fresh-faced for someone who probably stayed up watching documentaries after texting me good night.”

  
Lafayette shrugged, nonchalant. “As I told you last night, I have my secrets.”

  
“That’s your kid?” John turned at the sound of Jefferson’s voice. The man’s eyebrows seemed to have risen halfway across his forehead, dark eyes looking Frances up and down.

  
For some reason, John felt ridiculously defensive. “My daughter, yes. Frances.”

  
“She’s coming with you on the trip, Thomas,” Washington intervened, his face severe. “Mr Laurens here has no one to look after her.”

  
“Fine,” Jefferson drawled, leaning back into his chair. John had nothing against him - not friends, not particularly enemies either -, but he did look annoyingly careless, the same face he got whenever he was about to flaunt his knowledge around. John didn’t remember meeting anyone as fond of reminding everyone around them how qualified he was. Even if he could definitely respect someone who had a doctorate in physics and environmental science. “As long as I’m not on baby duty, it’s all good.”

  
“Don’t be rude, Thomas,” chided James Madison. John had almost noticed him, as the man was both frighteningly discreet and wrapped in what look like several layers of winter clothing. “I’ll lend a hand if you need me to, John,” Madison added with a polite smile, which John returned. “But I’m sure Dolley actually knows how to take care of kids.”

  
“Speaking of Ms Payne, she and Ms Wayles are on their way to the resort, so they can finalize our arrangements in advance. We’re only waiting on Margarita, Aaron and Alexander,” Washington said. He was probably the only one still calling Peggy Margarita.

  
As if on cue, a tiny silhouette in a bright yellow parka bounced into the room, their ponytail flying behind them. “Hi, everyone!” Peggy exclaimed. “Shit, John, I’m sorry.” Indeed, their enthusiasm had woken Frances up. Thank God, she did not cry, only looked around with glassy eyes, chewing on her fist. Aaron Burr walked in right after Peggy, already looking tired this early in the morning, and dragging two suitcases, one dark red and the other bright orange, behind him. It was easy to tell which one was his.

  
“Alex just texted me,” Peggy said, turning to Washington. “He’ll be here in a bit, got train problems.”

  
Washington didn’t look surprised, merely resigned. “I only had to give you all your files — scheduled activities, medical prescriptions for those who need it, nothing you’re not familiar with. Alexander wrote them, so he has his already. I would simply like you to go over it once here, so that any question might be asked right now. Starting with you, Mr Burr...” And so it went, in alphabetical order, until John received his own, a thick booklet marked LAURENS in neat marker letters.

  
“...Every emergency number you may need is on the last page,” Washington finished. John had tuned out about two-thirds of the way into his speech, which was mostly safety warnings and responsibilities he practically knew by heart by now. “As you know, Angelica and Elizabeth will join you by the end of week one for those who have to go home then,” a pointed look at John, “so they can replace those who need it. Any questions?”

  
Washington’s staff shook their heads at the very moment the door slammed open, almost hitting the wall. The human tornado known as Alexander Hamilton swept in, cheeks flushed by the cold, a few strands of hair escaping from beneath the scarf wrapped around his head. “Sorry I’m late,” he said in a strangled voice. “Train problems, all that—”

  
Washington waved him off with an ease that John couldn’t help but envy a little. The principal may be friendly with every member of his staff, but all of them knew he was particularly fond of Lafayette...and Hamilton, too, for reasons John could only begin to pinpoint. “It’s alright, Alexander, I only gave them your files. You’re right on time, though. All of you, Ben Franklin and Elizabeth are outside sorting students into their buses right now, so I’d suggest you go join them and talk among yourselves to figure out who’s going to be in what bus. It’s only a three-hours ride, but I want things orderly, hear me? To those of you who are late, Laurens' daughter is coming on the trip and remains his responsibility. He'll explain.”

  
“Yes, sir,” Herc said, bringing his hand to his temple in an imitation of a military salute. “C’mon, John, I’ll help you carry Frances’ stuff.”

  
“No, it’s fine, I’ll go,” Alex interrupted before John could say anything. “I saw your suitcase outside, you’ve got more stuff than me.” Indeed, if the small green case Alex carried with him was any indicator, he’d only packed in the bare minimum.

  
Herc shrugged. “Fine. John, Alex, the four of us - with Laf - take one bus, right?”  
“Works with me,” John said. “Uh...c’mon.” An awkward gesture at Alex with the arm that wasn’t holding Frances close to his chest, and the two of them were off, Alex’s suitcase making a weird clicking sound as he pulled it along.

  
“You alright there?” the other asked after a while. “Kid and all?”

  
“I have papa,” Frances said, tugging at a stray strand of John’s hair. John risked a glance at Alex, who was positively beaming at the child.

  
“Hola, you,” Alex cooed, holding out his gloved hand to Frances. “Name’s Alexander, but you call me Alex, okay?”

  
“Xander.”

  
“Alex.”

  
“Xander.”

  
“Laurens, your kid is stubborn as hell. She takes it from you?”

  
John had to fight himself not to snort. “Might be. So…” He looked for a change of subject, mouth agape for a few instants. “You ever been skiing before?”

  
Alex actually look embarrassed: John figured that if both his hands were free, he’d be fidgeting with them right now. “Nah. I’m more of a hot weather kind of guy, you know? But since Washington offered, I thought I might as well give it a try. Don’t throw away any shot, that’s what they say. You?”

  
“Went a few times as a kid, with my parents.” These were actually fun memories of his time with his family, of Martha shoving a handful of snow into the back of his jacket and their mother scolding her, Eleanor Laurens’ smile as bright as the sun off the snow around them. John shrugged off the reminders, focusing on Alex’s face and the way he seemed genuinely interested in what John had to say, which may or may not bring back the silly crush he’d had back in their first days at colleagues. “But, you know, it’s like riding a bicycle, you don’t actually forget.”

  
“So you’ll teach me, then?” If he didn’t know better, John would have said Alex’s tone was flirtatious. How he managed to pull it off while buried in several layers of clothes, his scarf pulled up almost to his nose, John would never know.

  
“Sure. I mean, if you want me to. Can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.”

  
“Skiing’s not history,” Alex agreed with a snort. “Still, I’ll hold you to it.”

  
“Deal.”

  
With their light bantering, they’d actually reached John’s car. John pulled the suitcases out of the trunks while Alex hauled the foldaway bed out himself, huffing a little. “You okay there?” John asked.

  
“Peachy keen,” Alex replied, flashing him a bright grin. Together, they made their way across the teachers’ parking lot and towards the public one, where two buses waited, apparently already stocked full of students.

  
Peggy gestured at them, their yellow coat a beacon in the early morning light. “Since you weren’t there, we split out the groups without you! The two of you, Frances, Laf and Herc on this one.” They pointed at the bus on their right. “I’m sacrificing myself and spending the trip with James, Thomas and Aaron.”

  
“They’re not that bad, Pegs,” said Eliza, emerging from behind the second bus, her black hair whipped back and forth on the wind. “Hi, John, Alex. Hi, baby Fran!” If it had been anyone else, John might have felt slightly insulted by the change of tone between each sentence, but this was Eliza Schuyler, the living embodiment of sunshine. He simply couldn’t be mad at her.

  
“They’re gonna be boring,” Peggy huffed, frowning. “Oh, who cares. I’ll have the kids, games and shit for them if the others can’t be the life of the party.”

  
“It’s just a day trip.”

  
“I don’t want to sleep.”

  
“Fine,” Eliza said, but she was grinning almost despite herself. “John, good luck with Fran, you know you can call me anytime if you need help. Alexander, Angelica told me to tell you that she’s sorry she isn’t here to see you off, but the truth is that her first period is at ten and she’s still sleeping. Also, she says quote, don’t forget to write, unquote, which means she’ll kick your ass if you don’t Facetime.”

  
Alex raised his hand in mocked surrender. “Okay, okay, will do. See you next week, Liza.” He leaned towards her, and she allowed him to peck her cheek. Against John’s chest, Frances made a little cooing noise, as if aware of his her father had tensed up just a little.

  
“Have a good trip, John,” Eliza said as she shook his hand and ruffled Frances’ hair. She hugged Peggy one last time before ushering John and Alex towards their bus, standing off to the side to wave at them and the students inside. Still cradling Frances’ back, John thanked the driver for stuffing their luggage into the already full trunk and climbed the few steps up.

As he emerged into the bus, about thirty familiar faces stared at him, then at Frances, some surprised - even shocked -, some gleeful. He heard a few voices go awww. “Everyone, this is Frances,” John said. “Fran, this is everyone.”

  
This was going to be one long drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, kudos and comments are always welcome! and if you want to chat or send prompts, hmu @andpegs on tumblr. hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, it's been super long and i'm really sorry. but i'm on holidays now, and that hopefully means more time to write. i still don't have a regular updating schedule, but it should get better! anyway, there it is — introductions to some of the students on the trip, and alex's pov.

“Did you know he had a kid?”

“Yeah, he let us out of class five minutes early once to pick her up from her babysitter’s or something.”

“Why the fuck do you pay attention to stuff like that?”

“Shut your face, it’s coming in useful now.”

Phyllis craned her neck to stare at the front seats. Mr du Motier and Mr Mulligan had called dibs on the back of the bus and, from what she could hear from her place in the middle, had instigated a very lively game of  _ never have I ever  _ using several bottles of lemonade. Mr Laurens and Mr Hamilton were up in the front, along with the little girl. She was pretty sure the kid wasn’t part of the debriefing her class had gotten a few weeks prior, based on the meticulous notes she’d taken.

Frances Laurens was here nonetheless, and Phyllis had no idea how her history teacher was going to handle both three classes of noisy, boisterous sophomores and a three-year-old. But then, he’d proven to be a miracle worker when he'd explained some of the most abstract concepts of French philosophers to her class in actually clear terms when they’d gone through the Enlightenment and French Revolution, so she figured it wasn’t entirely out of the question.

Besides her, Catharine moaned, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Whatever. I don’t care as long as that kid doesn’t start crying. This is too early, Phy. Too fucking early.”

“We were supposed to meet here at seven thirty. That’s not much earlier than usual.”

“Not on weekends! Phy, I’m dying.” There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them to let each other be dramatic.

“Just sleep, then. You can lean on me or whatever.”

Catharine didn’t bother answering, simply laying her head on Phyllis’ shoulder. A few minutes later, Phyllis heard light snoring. With a smile, she looked down at her phone again, jotting down a couple of imagery ideas for her new poem.

 

A few rows up the bus, Alex was freaking out.

It was unfair that of all the people in New York City, he had a crush on his coworker.

It was especially unfair that said coworker happened to have an adorable daughter, who he was only finding out about now (though he’d rather die than admit it to John), and that both of them were currently napping right next to him.

From whatever little he knew, John bringing Frances on the trip was an impromptu decision due to someone (his sister? a babysitter? both?) cancelling on him, but as long as principal Washington was fine with it, the rest of the staff couldn’t do much. Not that any of them actually wanted to do much, mind you.

John Laurens didn’t strike Alex as someone who had a particularly fucked up sleep schedule. It was probably impossible anyway, if he had to take care of a toddler. But the facts were what they were: both members of the Laurens family were out cold. Alex vaguely remembered John putting Frances on a baby seat before she’d shown sure signs of wailing. He was also pretty sure John had muttered something along the lines of  _ it’s just for a while don’t worry about it _ before unstrapping the little girl and cradling her to his chest, security belt looped over both of them. They’d both fallen asleep approximately fifteen minutes into their day trip. Because, you know, screw watching the students.

In all honesty, though, Alex didn’t think they needed it all that much. They had three classes on this trip, divided into two buses. None of them had ever given him more trouble than your average group of high schoolers, which may or may not be due to his ability - as a fellow loudmouth - to outtalk any insolent kid into silence. Rumor had it they’d given him a certain nickname after the first few times, but Alex really did not want to find out what. Or did he?

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A short video from Peggy, who held their phone high enough for him to see almost to the middle of the other bus, over the heads of a crowd of high schoolers singing at the top of their lungs. Besides them, Aaron Burr had his headphones on and seemed to focus on the book in his lap, though he occasionally looked up and shot the camera a long-suffering stare. Apparently, no one felt up to sleeping there.

Looked like, hyped up on caffeine as he was, he’d picked the wrong crew. When Alex turned back to have a good look at the rest of the bus, he found half the student slumbering, the others quietly talking or absorbed in their own activities.

_ God, did they divide up the students between those who want to party and those who want to sleep, or do we just happen to be the boring ones? _

Not that he was complaining right now. Not when John Laurens’ head was resting on his shoulder and his baby girl was sprawled on his chest, held tight even in sleep. This was a bad time for his dormant crush to resurface, but since the universe (and Peggy Schuyler, which might actually be worse) was against him, there wasn’t much he could do but grit his teeth and repeat  _ I’m on a professional trip with responsibilities  _ to himself as though it was a mantra. Even sleep did not represent a viable option: Alex was still hopped up on the many shots of espresso he’d ordered this morning at the coffee shop down the street, his own machine being - as it often was - broken.

_ They better have decent coffee at the station, or else I’m quitting the moment Angelica and Eliza show up to replace me. _

Petty concerns aside, though, he had to admit he was...well, excited. As he’d told John earlier (blurted out, more like), he’d never gone skiing. Neither time nor money, even though that was a sad statement to make. Here he’d have his friends and his students, which meant double humiliation if he turned out to suck at skiing but also double support every step of the way.

“Mr Hamilton?”

Alex almost jumped in surprise, catching himself at the last second not to wake John and Frances. He brought a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, pointing at his colleague and the kid.

“Mr Hamilton,” the girl repeated. Her right eye was twitching as though she’d almost rolled her eyes then thought better of it. “Eli’s feeling sick. Can I get a bag for him?”

“Oh. Yes, right, of course.” Through some miracle, Alex got his hands on a plastic bag with a minimal amount of fumbling and passed it to the other. Mary Ludwig, if he remembered correctly. Apparently, she was a favorite of Herc’s, which automatically made her likeable. “Now go back to your seat,” he whispered, nudging her towards the back of the bus again. “You kids aren’t supposed to get up at any moment, so this is an emergency, okay?”

Mary gave him a thumbs-up and weaved her way back to her seat again, ducking out of Alex’s line of sight. Part of him wondered if he should let the familiarity slip, since he’d actually been asked whether he was a new classmate on his very first day on the job. Nonsense. These were, as far as he could tell, good kids. Besides, he’d been teaching for years now, and any insecurities he might have once had were history. Couldn’t he be both their teacher and their friend in some way? He’d never given that much thought to it before.

Alex sunk down into his seat again, acutely aware of John’s head lolling against his shoulder and Frances’ soft snoring, then focused on the landscape rolling by outside the window. He forced himself into inactivity and rest, willing his hands to stay still in his lap. Once they reached their destination, he was surely going to need it.

 

Mary slid back into her seat, shoving the plastic bag she’d gotten from Mr Hamilton under Eli’s nose. “You okay there, Eli?” Nevermind that he looked like death warmed over.   
Eli made a small noise which might have been  _ thanks _ , but was probably nothing more than a nausea-induced moan. She patted his back. “I know the feel. I used to get carsick as a kid, but by some miracle, it’s over.”

They were an unlikely duo, but the story of their friendship was really quite simple. She’d broken the nose of a classmate in primary school for bullying him into giving up a prized toy. They’d been inseparable ever since, and he was tutoring her now, since she could handle literature and most sciences just fine but couldn’t speak German to save her life. 

Eli whimpered, which she ignored until his voice became clearer. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Whatever. I gotta focus on, you know…” She felt his shudder from one seat over. “...something that’s not how I wanna get the hell off this bus right now.”

“Will gossip do?”

“As I told you, whatever.”

“Fine. So, do you remember me telling you I wanted some grand plan for the trip? Like, class projects, some stuff so we could get to spend more time as just one group rather than three classes?”

“Sure.” He was like that, Eli. He even texted her over her own responsibilities when he has the barest inkling she’d forgotten about them — Mary remembered waking up to a trademarked Eli Whitney to-do-list about one of the presentations they were on together two years ago, plan of action and all.

She thought about Mr Hamilton and the fondness with which he’d looked at the Laurens when he hadn’t noticed her presence yet, and also much of the school gossip surrounding that pair. “So, I’m not discarding the scrapbook or horror night yet, but I’ve got another idea. It might turn out to be disaster.”

Eli shifted from being curled up on his seat to actually looking at her, his knuckles white from clutching his plastic bag. “I’m listening.” 

 

Through a couple more hours of relatively smooth traffic, the buses pulled up in a somewhat packed parking lot. Alex was the first one to step foot outside, both to count up the students again and get a breath of fresh air. After two hours in relative immobility, he was almost twitching, as giddy as a child on the first day of snow. 

Even as the teenagers gathered outside in little clusters and Peggy bounded out of the other bus, throwing their arm around Alex’s shoulder, he was still glancing between his lists and the wooden arch greeting the visitors. The top of it seemed to have once been covered in scrawled letters, but someone had sloppily whitewashed the whole thing, making it unreadable. Atop the layer of white paint were bigger, capital letters in different colors, with some plainer text as subtitle below. 

“In the Heights, mountain resort, guaranteed fun for the duration of your stay,” Herc read as he joined Alex and Peggy, clapping his shoulder. “Like the name?”

“Sounds familiar. Like a song I knew or something.” Still, Alex couldn’t help but grin as he stared up at the sign, as though it made for a good omen for the start of their stay.

“Yeah, well, stop reminiscing and go make sure our rooms are ready. I’ll help the kids with their suitcases.” Before Alex could say anything, Herc sashayed away towards the first struggling students. Perhaps it was for the better, since the piled-up suitcases in the buses’ trunk looked like it could topple over anytime.

“Sorry, Ham,” Peggy said in what sounded an awful lot like fake sympathy before bounding away, their bright yellow parka like a beacon in the snow.

Alex sighed, picked up his backpack and made his way towards the main desk.

The reception hall was small but cosy, with a fire happily crackling away in the hearth, what looked like souvenir photos hanging in small frames over the mantel and multiple cushions-covered couches scattered around it. The receptionist was pretty cute, Alex noted, and looked up through horn-rimmed glasses the moment the door opened. Alex considered apologizing for the flurry of snow on the carpet, then decided they must be used to it anyway.

The receptionist spoke before he did, which was a feat in itself. “Hi — you’re the school from New York, right? I saw you pull up outside.”

“Right. Alexander Hamilton, a pleasure to meet you.” Alex extended a hand over the counter, which the young woman shook with enthusiasm. She didn’t look much older than him, perhaps not at all.

“Theodosia Bartow,” she said enthusiastically. “I was quite excited for you guys to arrive, really. No offense,” Theodosia looked around the hall with something like guilt, “but it’s been pretty dull.” 

“Hopefully we’ll be bringing some peps to your monotone life,” Alex quipped, which earned him another smile. “I was gonna check our rooms, though?”

“Oh.” Theodosia started chewing on her lower lip, which he interpreted as a sign of nervousness. “Well, I was gonna tell you...there may be a little problem with those. Like, nothing too important! But- okay, don’t look at me like that,” she added, probably reacting to Alex’s distressed expression, “it’s just that we don’t have as many single rooms free as planned. A few had water issues, won’t be fixed for at least a few days more. Some of you might have to share. I hope it’s still alright?”

She looked so genuinely concerned that Alex felt compelled to reassure her immediately. “No, I think it’s going to be fine— we had plans for the single rooms to be the teachers’, but most of us are friends anyway, we’ll figure it out.” Actually, he’d rather scoop his own eyes out with a spoon than be roommates with Jefferson, but that may be oversharing.

Theodosia grinned at him, relief flooding her features. “Great. You let me know, okay? Of course, there’s going to be a discount for your trouble.”

“Accidents happen, I understand,” Alex replied. “How many rooms are left, though?”

Theodosia consulted something on her computer. “Five right now. Still okay?”

“Of course, of course. I’ll...go confer with everyone outside, I’ll let you know.” With that he was off again, running into the snow again. A few heads turned to him, teachers and students alike.

“Emergency meeting,” he called at Laf, who frowned and leaned over to pass the message on to Madison, who happened to be standing next to him. In a matter of minutes, the eight of them had gotten together in a cluster, still watching their charges but within hearing range. “So, that girl at the reception, Theodosia, told me there’s only five rooms left for us for at least the first few days. Water problems or something. Who’s gonna pair up?”

“Dolley and Martha are already sharing a room,” James said quietly. “I’ll take one with Thomas, if he’s alright with that.”

“I’d rather room with him than any of y’all, except maybe Gilbert, so I’m fine,” the interested party declared.

“Fuck you too,” Herc said, proving himself worthy of Alex’s affection. “Speaking of Gil, we’ll take one.” That statement was approved by a nod, though Alex did not miss the affectionate smile Laf gave Herc.

“That leaves Aaron, John, Alex and myself,” Peggy finished. Their expression was a little too mischievous for Alex’s tastes. “Aaron and I are now buddies, ‘cause I found out he knows like, so many Beyoncé songs by heart. Dibs on him.”

Burr looked at John like he might save him, but Frances was still waking up for the third time that morning and all of her father’s attention was on her. Finally, he gave a sigh not unlike a prisoner being told he’d be led to the gallows on the morrow. “Fine. You better not snore, Schuyler.”

“That leaves the two of you.” Peggy pointed a triumphant finger at Alex, then John and Frances. “Well, three,” they amended. 

Alex shrugged, trying to ignore the fact part of his brain had just started screaming. “You sure that’s gonna be okay? I mean, with the kid and everything?”

John looked apologetic. “I guess, if you don’t mind some occasional night crying.”

“He never sleeps anyway,” Laf piped in, earning himself a Hamilton patented glare. “So that’s settled.”

“I’ll go tell the receptionist and retrieve the key,” Burr said, as if looking for an occasion to get some peace and quiet away from them all. 

Alex looked at John again, swallowed hard, and smoothed his features back into something he hoped passed for chill. 

Looked like the sign wasn’t lying about exciting holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as for who the students are ( historical figures ) ; is it age accurate? no, but here goes.  
> — phyllis is phyllis wheatley.  
> — catharine is catharine maria sedwig.  
> — mary is mary ludwig, best known as molly pitcher.  
> — eli is, as specified, eli whitney.  
>  ~~i don't have specific celebs in mind for them, but following the hamilcast, all of them are poc.~~  
>  as usual, kudos and comments are always motivating! let me know what you thought here or on tumblr @andpegs. hope you enjoyed the update!

**Author's Note:**

> next chapter: a day trip, and (un)fortunate bedroom arrangements. kudos and comments are always appreciated, and feel free to come talk to me @andpegs on tumblr! hope you enjoyed this chapter.


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